A Wager of Sorts
by Halia Stone
Summary: Klaus and Damon figure out where Caroline's sudden money influx has come from. And that nobody in Mystic Falls has any sense of dignity anymore.


**This isn't really a sequel to Technological Glitch, and you don't need to have read that to understand this one. There's only a vague mention of a bet in it anyway.**

**I dunno, I thought it would be a funny little story. Lemme know your thoughts, and I'll see you next time.**

* * *

It was a rare moment in Mystic Falls that nothing untoward or life-threatening was going on. So, he was taking advantage of it and enjoying a drink with Damon. He supposed if he was that way inclined, he would admit it was a date. But he wasn't and he wouldn't; at most, they were drinking after playing a few games of darts.

Damon was suddenly prodding his arm, grabbing his attention away from the drivel being projected from the TV screen anchored on the wall above the bar. "Hey, did you see that?" he asked, looking around with a brief frown before looking back at him.

Klaus looked in the direction Damon had, not being able to see anything of merit that was particularly attention-grabbing. "No, what?"

"Since when can Caroline afford genuine Gucci stuff?" Damon wondered in surprise.

It was then Klaus saw her sitting at a table nearby, along with Bonnie and Elena. He noticed her wearing a new hat and a clutch bag that was next to her plate of food. The clutch bag bore the well-known intertwined G's in black stitching.

"How do you know it's genuine?" he asked, taking a swig of his bourbon.

"I'm embarrassed to admit this," Damon began with a slight frown, "But I know my knock-offs, Klaus," he said with a pinched smile and a nod of his head.

Then he pointed a finger in his face in warning. "And I'm Italian, _do not_ push me on this," he ordered.

"Only half," Klaus pointed out, raising his eyebrow.

"I just said not to push me," Damon replied in annoyance.

Klaus just chuckled and rolled his eyes, watching as he returned to his drink.

"It's possible she just compelled herself a new wardrobe, Damon," he pointed out suggestively, "Why pay for what you can just take?" he said with a shrug. The gods only knew how many things the Mikaelson family had that they didn't—technically—legally own.

"Oh, no way, not Caroline," Damon said insistently, "Elena said she made her return a dollar of change when they were all at lunch once because she felt bad about it," he explained.

Klaus' eyebrows raised in surprise; Caroline really was the most un-vampiric vampire he had ever had the misfortune of coming across in his entire life. "Really?"

"And I know she hasn't got a job recently," Damon continued with another glance at Caroline, who was currently paying their waitress for their food, "Something's up," he added, gulping down the remnants of his bourbon.

"Now that you mention it," Klaus began, his mind suddenly jogged about something, "all of her little friends seem a little peeved about something," he noted, "Even Elijah was walking around with a face like thunder last week, and Rebekah was in a positively foul mood," he added as an afterthought.

But was it? It seemed like too much of a coincidence. Rebekah's foul mood could've been from something as insignificant as Elena daring to so much as sneeze in her presence, but Elijah didn't regularly associate with the Mystic Falls Scooby gang if he could help it and since Klaus hadn't done anything untoward to him in a while, he struggled to think what could've annoyed his elder brother so.

"Could just be 'cause they're related to you," Damon teased, nudging him in the side with a cheeky grin.

Klaus narrowed his eyes and playfully shoved him, making him chuckle.

"Can I get you guys a refill?" Matt asked them both as he walked over to check on them.

Klaus nodded as he tossed the rest of his back; Damon did as well, also asking for a few packets of peanuts. His eyes then light up as Matt made to walk away.

"Say, Matt," he began, his voice coaxing the young waiter back towards them, "You're irrelevant and blend into the background; have you noticed anything about Caroline's sudden money influx?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, she won the bet," Matt said in a non-plussed manner.

"What bet?" Damon asked in utter confusion, exchanging an equally bewildered look with Klaus, "I never heard anything about any bet," he added, an angry snap edging his voice.

Matt's eyes then went wide, as if he had just realized he said something he shouldn't have. And he must have, as he quickly blurted out, "I'll go get you your drinks," and made a hasty beeline to get away from them.

"Donovan," Klaus growled out, making him freeze in his tracks. He snapped his fingers and beckoned him back over.

Reluctantly, Matt shuffled back over.

"Speak," Damon demanded.

He sighed heavily, obviously weighing up his options on whether to incur the wrath of a blonde, vampire Barbie doll, or a hundred-and seventy-years old vampire and Original hybrid.

Matt, the smart boy, decided to go with angering Caroline rather than them. "A few months ago, she made a bet on whether the two of you would get together or not," he explained.

"Slow day, was it?" Klaus said in a surprised voice. As bland as that sounded, it also wasn't something he heard every day. From what he was understanding, a bunch of people with nothing better to do bet on the outcome of his and Damon's relationships like they were a horse down at the races?

The more he thought it over, the more it baffled him. He was almost praying for an imminent werewolf attack or something; _anything_ the slightest bit more exciting than betting on someone.

"Why would she do that?" Damon asked in confusion, his brow furrowing.

"'Cause she was one of the only ones that believed you would at first," he explained, "So she thought she'd get some fun out of it," he finished, looking between the two of them to gauge their reactions.

"And we didn't even get a cut!" Damon cried indignantly, "The nerve of some people," he declared in a deadpan, rolling his eyes.

"So, who was in on the bet?" Klaus wondered; his interest piqued. To be frank, it was that bland discussion, or an equally bland football match on the television.

"Pretty much everyone," Matt said, his expression briefly shifting to unease as Klaus let out a low growl at the thought, "Me, Caroline, Elena, Jeremy, Bonnie, Stefan—"

"My own brother?!" Damon interjected in utter surprise, his eyebrows practically flying off his forehead, "Why I oughta..."

"My siblings had nothing to do with this juvenile display, did they?" Klaus asked; he sincerely doubted Rebekah or Elijah would concern themselves with such affairs, but Kol was the kind of juvenile little shit that would.

"Don't know," Matt shrugged, "You'd have to get the sheet Caroline wrote it all down on,"

"She still has it?" Damon asked.

"Yeah," Matt nodded, "Tyler's refusing to pay up since he insists his bet was too close to Caroline's and he should get some money too," he added with a knowing look on his face, "If you ask me—"

"Donovan!" the voice of one of his colleagues hollered, interrupting him, "Back to work!" he ordered, snappily clapping his hands and beckoning for him to get a move on.

"You didn't hear any of this from me," Matt said as a goodbye, probably grateful he could slink away from them. Given the theme of the day, Klaus would've put money on the fact that a different waiter entirely would be serving them their refills.

"First that Facebook incident, and now this," Damon frowned, "It seems our friends have _way_ too much time on their hands," he said in a distasteful voice, glancing back at the trio that were just finishing up their lunch.

"Agreed," Klaus said with a nod, "I'm tempted to remedy it by means of a large massacre," he said unapologetically.

Damon snorted, the corner of his mouth twitching. "That's your answer to everything," he pointed out knowingly.

* * *

Thankfully, Damon had managed to talk Klaus out of his rectify-with-a-massacre plan and they were both back at the Boarding House. Caroline, Stefan and Elena were also there, much to Damon's delight as he had been able to snatch the betting sheet out of Caroline's clutch bag and see just who out of their friends had nothing better to do.

Klaus was trying to feign ignorance by burying his nose in Damon's copy of Gone with the Wind, but every so often Damon would let out a snort or mutter something unsavory under his breath that would grab his attention onto the mediocre subject.

As it was, Damon's cry of, "You are not serious!" made him look over with raised eyebrows. He looked mid-way between breaking into laughter and utterly bewildered.

"Kol and Rebekah were in on it!" he chuckled, thrusting the piece of paper towards his face.

He shook his head with a grin just as Klaus was trying to process what he said. "Those motherfu—"

He rushed over in a blur and ripped the paper from Damon's hands. "Give me that," he said, and Damon held his hands up in surrender, leaning back on the couch and continuing to chuckle to himself.

Klaus examined the piece of paper he had been glued to; it was severely crumpled and some of the names of the betting pool participants and their respective bets had begun to wear away or had become smudged beyond recognition. But what stood out to Klaus was a whole different level of betrayal:

_Rebekah — Two weeks, six days; $60_

_Kol — One week; $100_

_Elijah — Three months; $20_

"Well, that explains a few things..." he muttered under his breath, shaking his head slightly. So much for Elijah and Rebekah not involving themselves in such childish affairs.

Damon stood up and peered at the paper over his shoulder. "_Elijah!_" he parroted in shock, his eyebrows shooting up. They exchanged a confused look. "Does no-one have a sense of dignity anymore?!" he asked, sounding betrayed.

Klaus had to admit if his brother—the most reserved and poised of them all—had stooped so low, they were, how Damon often liked to put things, screwed. He was a little confused as to why Kol had bet one week until himself and Damon got together, however. He would have to ask later.

"He's the last person I would've expected," Klaus admitted, eyes continuing to peruse the few names that were still legible.

The little Bennett witch seemed rather stingy in comparison with her friends, betting only ten dollars. Perhaps she was one of the people who thought a relationship between himself and Damon was totally out of the realm of possibility? Tyler had been the most generous with his bet—three hundred dollars—so it was no wonder he was keen to hold onto it.

"Last person you expected to what?" Stefan's voice asked.

Klaus and Damon turned to see him walking into the parlor, Caroline and Elena in tow with identical frowns on their faces.

"To go along with your little bet, Caroline," Klaus said airily, needling her with a glare as he gave the sheet a little shake. He saw her pale a little, swallowing.

"I expected better, Stefan," Damon said in an overly-theatrically disappointed manner, shaking his head, "I'm very disappointed," he added as he walked over to Stefan, who looked like he was expecting Damon to attack him.

Instead, he just punched him on the arm and laughed. "You should've told me! Then I could've made sure you won!"

Stefan grinned. "For a share of the profits, I assume?"

Damon looked at Stefan like he was stupid. "Obviously."

Caroline was suddenly at Klaus' side, snatching the paper from his hands with an uncomfortable look on her face. "Who told you about it?" she asked, before turning to look at Elena and Stefan accusatorily.

"Don't look at me," Elena said hurriedly, holding her hands up in surrender.

"It was Donovan," Klaus told her, the latter rolling her eyes with a distasteful look on her face and muttering something, "Informed us over our drinks this morning, and then looked rather surprised that we didn't know," he added with a chuckle.

That made Damon give Caroline a very serious look. "Were you actually planning on telling us?" he wondered.

"I was going to, I swear," she began, suddenly looking and sounding very apologetic; Klaus just raised his eyebrow, "But then my favorite clothes store was having a sale and it—"

"Slipped your tiny mind?" he interjected with a suggestive look.

"Look, I'll cut you both in on the winnings if it'll make you feel better," she said, giving them a half-smile and a hopeful look.

"Half," Klaus said, pointing a finger at her, "Unless you want me to eviscerate you in your sleep," he added in a growl. It wasn't like he or Damon needed the money, it was more a principal thing, really.

"Deal," Caroline agreed quickly, hesitantly shaking Damon's proffered hand, "As soon as Tyler swallows his pride and pays up," she added with a roll of her eyes. "_I _won fair and square, and he needs to accept it," she insisted.

"And it's for the best, anyway," she continued with a knowing look, "Or else I would've been driving off with your Camaro," she finished with a chuckle, indicating Damon.

His head then spun around so fast he would've given himself whiplash if he was human. "Excuse me? Did I just hear my beloved car mentioned?" he asked, walking over and looking like he couldn't quite believe what he heard.

"Elena bet it!" she cried, whirling around and pointing at her friend, determined to not share all the blame, it seemed.

"Caroline!" Elena looked affronted, frowning and folding her arms. Then her frown deepened. "That's how confident I was that you _weren't_ together," she muttered in an unsavory tone, rolling her eyes.

"That's not how it works!" Damon said, sounding like he was seconds away from howling in utter indignation; the girl had nerve. "You can't bet things you don't own!" he pointed out.

"So was Elijah, it seemed," Klaus interrupted before Damon could go on a tangent, "He bet a hundred dollars," he chuckled, conferring a look with Damon.

"And one of his suits," Caroline admitted.

Klaus just wordlessly raised his eyebrows in response; where was the white oak daggers when he needed them?

The front door then opened and closed. Damon had a pleased smile on his face as Alaric walked in, strolling over to him.

"Ah, Ric!" He flung an arm around the man, guiding him inside, "Finally, someone with some sense of honor around here," he declared with a pointed look at every person in the room except Klaus.

"What's going on?" Alaric asked as Damon released him and he clocked everyone standing around; Elena, Caroline and Stefan looking like children caught with their hands in the cookie jars.

"They know about the bet, Ric," Elena said out of the corner of her mouth.

Damon's eyes narrowed. "You're dead to me, Saltzman," he growled, storming over to his liquor cart and beginning to angrily pour himself a glass.

Alaric looked sheepish, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. "Sorry, buddy," he apologized, but Damon was having none of it and made a point of exaggeratedly blanking him and looking away.

"So, who gets this, then?"

He then dug into his pocket and pulled out two fifty-dollar bills.


End file.
